


Lift

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:26:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The infatuation will end soon (they all do)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lift

**Author's Note:**

> Day 26 of the 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge by ghiraher on tumblr: elevator meeting

The first time Kise sees him is his second week in the apartment. It still feels weird having a place of his own out here in LA; it doesn't make sense not to have one at this point with all the work he does out here but after years of staying at five-star downtown hotels and on friends' couches and in employers' guesthouses it's more than strange to look out at this kind of city spread out before him and then turn around to see that painting of a bowl of fruit he'd bought at an auction on the wall, the one he'd kept at his room in his parents' house in Tokyo for so long—he's not big on objects as sentimental reminders and yet this particular picture reminds him that this is his place. He's the one who has to clean the dirty dishes in the sink (hiring a cleaning lady isn't really worth the effort despite what his agent says) and he's got the piece of paper certifying his ownership of this particular set of square feet in a bank vault somewhere.

He's still considering what it means to be a homeowner as he waits for the elevator, and when it finally arrives he nods to the occupant before registering his appearance.

He's an extraordinarily beautiful man, black hair combed over one eye and a not-so-benign half-smile playing on his lips. He's wearing a suit, so probably some sort of business type—it's perfectly tailored to fit his lovely form, though. Kise hasn't seen alteration work that good in a long time (it can't be couture; he'd have heard of a label like that before). He doesn't seem to recognize Kise, which may or may not be a good thing (if he knows him he must be awfully good at keeping a straight face).

"I love your suit," Kise says.

"Thank you," says the man.

He tilts his head in a way that makes him look almost doll-like. Kise racks his brain for a person, any person, he's heard of in show business who matches this description, but none come to mind as they reach the first floor and the doors slide open.

"Have a good one," says the man and he walks off so fast he almost seems to vanish like a mirage into the shining glass front door.

* * *

The next time Kise sees him is a few days later at the mailbox; he's fumbling with his keys and then drops them on the ground. Kise bends over and picks them up, placing them in the elegant hand with a smile.

"Thanks," he says.

He glances through his mail as Kise opens his own box and gathers his handful of bills and catalogues (even the most overzealous fans haven't started sending mail to this address yet). Kise tries to catch a glimpse of the name on the other man's address label but he can't without appearing too obvious so he slams his box shut. They begin walking toward the elevator.

"I'm Tatsuya by the way," he says, sticking out his hand.

Right, first names. "I'm Ryouta."

There's definitely some kind of spark when they touch; Kise thoroughly enjoys the way Tatsuya's hand fits in his and the feeling of his cool, dry skin.

"I just moved in a few weeks ago," says Kise. "I'm in 26B."

"Oh, that's right downstairs from me," says Tatsuya. "I heard the place had sold a while ago."

"Yeah, I'm here for work almost all the time now but I was just staying in hotels and with friends and stuff, avoiding getting a place of my own and all."

"Why not rent?"

Kise shrugs. The elevator door opens and they step inside; Tatsuya presses the buttons for both of their floors and Kise can't resist a lingering gaze on those lovely fingers.

"My agent kept bugging me to invest in real estate. I think he meant back home, though."

"Where is home?"

"Tokyo."

"Do you miss it?"

"I go back often enough," says Kise.

The door opens on the twenty-sixth floor landing.

"Good night," says Tatsuya.

"Good night," says Kise.

* * *

It's been a long time since he's had a crush on anyone like this, something that occasionally laps on the shores of obsession, eating at the back of his mind. How does Tatsuya like his coffee? What's his favorite color? Would he like this song on the radio the way Kise does, twirl Kise around with a smile on his face? (He could, despite Kise's height advantage.) Would that smile be more genuine? The little bits and pieces that Kise gets from conversations at the mailbox or in the elevator only fuel his imagination further. He describes everything in detail to Kuroko on the phone—he's probably not really listening anyway but it doesn't matter because Tatsuya is wonderful and he just has to let it out.

"Be careful, Kise-kun," Kuroko says before he hangs up.

Kise assures him that he will—but what's to be careful about? The infatuation will end soon (they all do) and by that point they'll probably be friends and maybe Tatsuya knows and they'll laugh about it later but it's fun right now and it's not like Tatsuya is doing anything to deflect the attention.

Some nights when they're both home (and those are rare) Tatsuya leans over the terrace and talks to him, sometimes in English and sometimes in Japanese—he's pretty much fluent except for slang; he says he mostly spoke it at home with his parents (and home for him is here, a few miles away) but that's the farthest he goes into speaking about his childhood, avoiding the other questions while twirling the cheap pendant he always wears around his finger. His voice is melodic and when Kise gets sleepy he stops trying to understand the English and lets it wash over him—this late it's never anything important, sometimes about sports (most often his favorite WNBA team) and sometimes about his job as an investment banker. Sometimes he asks about Kise's modeling gigs and Kise gives vague answers. Work is boring and he can't impress Tatsuya with it, really.

* * *

The thing Kise likes best about Tatsuya (if he had to decide) is how he says his name, low and sweet and with no honorific or diminutive, the way that it is—he's never particularly liked his name, too boring and too hard for most Americans to say but the way Tatsuya says it it's not a bad name at all.

"You know, you could just say my name all night," says Kise.

His faces is flushed and he's definitely got being tipsy as his main excuse, should he need one. (It was Tatsuya who invited him up and then gave him the wine, though, if that counts for anything.)

"You're shameless," says Tatsuya. "Ryouta."

The smile on his face is almost ghostlike; he reaches out and tucks a lock of Kise's hair behind his ear.

"I probably shouldn't do this," he says before he kisses him.

His lips are warm and numb.

"Why not?"

Tatsuya kisses him harder this time, and even like this Kise can take the hint for now.


End file.
